Subtle Things
by volley
Summary: Friend In Need. On his way to welcoming Archer back to Enterprise, Trip makes a detour to Sickbay. Coda to Shockwave 2


A short coda to Shockwave 2. I think I've read a couple of stories based on the same idea; but I thought that episode deserved a Friend In Need fic, so I gave it a try.

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The Suliban cellship bringing Archer back was not going to dock with Enterprise for another ten minutes at least, but Trip hurried along the corridor. He didn't want to be late welcoming his Captain and friend aboard again, and first there was something he wanted to do. If Archer had made it back to them, after all, it was especially because of what a certain Lieutenant had volunteered to do, and Trip was eager to inform Malcolm of the latest developments. He wanted to set his friend's mind at ease; figured he more than deserved it.

T'Pol had said 'minor injuries', and Trip entered the medical bay with a bouncing step; it lost a lot of its momentum when he realised that Malcolm was lying flat. But when his friend's face finally came into view, the smile that was on his own was wiped off abruptly. The hell if he had expected such horrible... Malcolm's face was a dreadful map of lumps and bruising, on which camped an ugly purple mass with a slit in the middle – his right eye; his lips were split and swollen out of shape. The front of his uniform was stained with blood.

Warning Malcolm that things 'could get pretty ugly' and seeing just how ugly they had got were very different things – he realised with a wince. Harsh reality took the wind out of his sail, and he approached the biobed with more tentative steps.

Phlox appeared from behind a partition. "Don't worry, Commander, it's nothing serious," he said in his fatherly tone, having taken but a glance at the expression on Trip's face.

"That may well be, Doc," Trip replied hoarsely. "Looks painful, though."

Malcolm's only serviceable eye drifted open and sought him. He began to pull up to a sitting position.

"I have given the Lieutenant a dose of analgesic," Phlox said, with a disapproving scowl at his patient's movement. He put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and pushed him back down. "Lie still for a few more minutes, Mister Reed, will you? And I promise I'll let you go to your quarters." In his cheerful Denobulan tone he added, "A few days, and you'll be your old handsome self again."

Malcolm groaned, bringing a small smile back to Trip's face.

"The Capt'n's made it back," Trip said. "I wanted you to know."

Something flitted across Malcolm's misshaped features. "Really? Is he all right?"

His words were awfully mangled; Trip restrained a wince and nodded. "He seems to be fine. He's dockin' in a few minutes. I'm on my way to meetin' him." Biting his lip, he shifted his gaze away from the ugliness – God knew he could have never studied medicine; but the image stayed in his mind, and he blurted out, "Dammit, Malcolm, I hadn't thought... well, I had thought, but somehow I had hoped that..." Passing a hand through his hair he blew out a breath that was more eloquent than his broken words.

"I did it," Malcolm breathed out, following his own train of thoughts, sounding surprised.

Trip looked back sharply, with a frown. Self-doubt was the last thing he expected from the man. Malcolm always projected such an image of strength and stoicism that left no room for that. He could still hear the man's determined answer when he had asked him if he was sure he wanted to play this uncomfortable part in the play they were going to stage to free Enterprise and try to bring Archer back.

"_Did_ it?" Trip echoed, with a mirthless snort, as he jerked his chin in the direction of his friend's bruises. "Seems to me you gave a performance worthy of an Oscar."

The single grey eye blinked. "I was afraid I..." Eye drifting closed, Malcolm slowly deflated. "If I gave in too soon they might suspect something; but I was afraid I might pass out before I had..."

He left the rest unsaid, and Trip grimaced, the words conjuring up a scene that was a bit too vivid. He'd imagined Malcolm's pantomime might involve some pain, but had never stopped to think that he'd actually have to keep them going, walking a tightrope between endurance and timing. And now Trip was also realising his own pyrotechnics would've been all for nothing, had the Lieutenant been knocked unconscious before tricking the Suliban into using Daniels' device. A shiver ran down his spine; they had won a hell of a bet.

"But – by golly – I did it," Malcolm breathed out again, still to himself.

Trip watched his friend visibly relax. To think that in the beginning he had even wondered just how much work there could be for an Armoury and Security Officer on board Enterprise. Now he was glad they had one Malcolm Reed with them.

"I wish there could've been another way," Trip said softly. Stupid words. He knew there hadn't; and that no one else other than Malcolm could have pulled it off. But it still bugged him.

Malcolm's eyebrows lifted imperceptibly. "This is nothing; part of the job," he mumbled around his injuries. "I'll be okay, now."

Trip shook his head at that last word, a smile tugging at his lips again. Damn, but he had misjudged this man. And in a way he was glad he had. He was glad he was finding out how different Malcolm really was from the stuck-up SOB he thought they had enlisted. There was a reassuring frailty to him; and depth. And that hard shell was only a mask, only for protection.

Malcolm's eye opened again. "We're already lucky that there was _one_ way, and we could get him back."

"Yeah."

It was the subtle things that let you see behind the mask. Get _him_ back_. _Not 'the Captain'. There was something in that pronoun that went beyond rank and duty, and pointed to the heart; to what Archer had become for them – Malcolm included, apparently: 'we got him back, this family is whole again'.

Amusement shone through the grey gaze, as Malcolm mumbled on, "Did quite an impressive job yourself, Commander, with that fake breach."

Trip chuckled. "I was quite proud of it, yeah; till T'Pol found a way to tell me I went a bit too heavy. Seems I gave the nacelles a good scorchin'."

"Maybe there's the heart of an Armoury man, beating in there," Malcolm croaked out, tentatively raising a hand to feel his cheekbone.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'll gladly leave all the blowin' up to you."

This time a tiny smile even made it to Malcolm's swollen lips. "All right," he said, hand coming down again, to rest on his chest. "Seems to me we make a fairly good team as it is, anyway."

"Seems we do," Trip agreed, with a touch of genuine surprise. By now his improbable friendship with this man was established well enough to add, "Who would've thought that, huh?"

He was rewarded with a laboured but more clipped, "I for one wouldn't have put my last two cents on it." And especially with what he read in that single eye that seemed unsure whether to stay on him or not.

"I'm proud of what you did, Lieutenant."

Trip felt he had to say it – and, hell, why not? He wasn't one for keeping things inside. Commander to Lieutenant, Officer to Officer; Malcolm might feel awkward, but deep down he would appreciate it.

Malcolm's mouth twitched slightly down, and he swallowed. Subtle things.

"Better hurry," the man mumbled hoarsely. "Wouldn't do to make the Captain wait." Clearing his throat, he added, single eye blinking, "Tell him I'm sorry. I believe I got some blood on his chair."

"On his chair?" Trip echoed softly. He was glad he'd been too busy to notice, up on the Bridge, just moments before.

Pursing his lips, he reached to squeeze the Armoury Officer's arm. "Mind if I drop by your quarters, later? We can share a couple of beers while I tell you all about what the Capt'n had to say."

Malcolm's face lit up for a second, before falling. "No beer, I'm afraid. I'm on painkillers."

"Well, you could always choose the beer over the painkillers," Trip gently teased.

"Hmm." The grey eye narrowed. "I'll give it a thought."

Trip shot his friend a last smile and turned to go. As he was leaving, he heard Phlox remark, "If only you allowed me to use my Osmotic eel, Lieutenant, you could well do without painkillers."

He couldn't catch Malcolm's reply to that, but it wasn't difficult to imagine, given the groan that was cut off by the doors closing behind him.

THE END

Always grateful for any comments.


End file.
